Can't I Catch a Break?
by whitetiger91
Summary: Why is Peter Pettigrew at school, yet so excited? Because he gets to join in on the latest game, of course!
**Can't I catch a break?**

 _ **Disclaimer: I do not own anything you recognise in this, including the letter. All belongs to the amazing JK Rowling.**_

 _ **A/N: This fic was written with the sole purpose of trying to make (Red) RedButterfly33 sympathise with a certain, despised character. Of course, this is near impossible, especially when I cannot demonize the Marauders, so here is my best effort. Wish me luck!**_

 _ **I also want to take a moment, though he will probably never, ever read this, to apologise to Shawn. Writing this, I saw another perspective, and I cringed the whole time. Primary school or not, I sincerely am so, so, so sorry for ever using the nickname 'Rat-tail', and more so, for not stopping anyone else. Bullying in any form is not cool, and neither am I.**_

* * *

"Thirdly, if the teacher comes, don't go telling them what we're doing, alright? No one likes a dibber-dobber."

Digging the tip of his black shoes into the dirt, Peter waited nervously for Bryce Rigby to finish explaining the rules of the game to the gathered students. Many of them were much taller than himself, not to mention less scrawny. Not for the first time today, he wondered if he should bother to ask to join in—if the humiliation of another rejection was worth it.

Seeing the excitement on his peers' faces, however, he stood up straighter, determined to at least try. Clearing his throat, he spoke up, "B-erm-Bryce?" The words came out quieter than intended, and he felt his cheeks redden at how stupid he probably sounded. Still, the blond turned around, curious as to who wanted him.

"Yeah?"

Licking his lips and shielding his face from the sun with his hands, he looked up at Bryce. "Erm, could I—could I join in?"

Before Bryce could answer, another of the boys in the group jumped in, a sneer on his freckled face. "You expect us to let you join in?" Then, raising his voice, he called out to the rest of the group, "Hey everybody, Rat-tail wants to play with us!"

Immediately, some of the boys and girls began to laugh, one girl, Emily, even going so far as to whisper "Ew," to her friend. Peter's cheeks felt like they were on fire and he stared at his now brown shoes. He hadn't had the small plait since Year 3, cutting it off as soon as he realised a 'rat-tail' wasn't a popular hair-style to have, yet it seemed his classmates weren't willing to do the same with his nickname.

"C'mon, let's hurry up and get started! The bell will probably ring before we even get to play," another boy, Emmett, whined as the laughter finally died down.

"Alright," Bryce agreed, pointing to a tree at the top of the playground. "That's the only base, ok? Now, it's boys chase girls first. Ready? And… go!"

Ignoring Peter, the girls set off running, squealing as they pushed each other out of the way. Some of the boys stood back, watching as they tried to pick out the slowest runner, whilst the others ran, calling out to each other that they had 'dibs' on catching and kissing certain girls.

Looking up, Peter saw Bryce hesitating, his eyes scanning the playground. Then, turning his blue eyes to Peter, he lifted his shoulders in a shrug. "Fine, you can play. Just make sure you keep an eye out for Ms Wilson, alright? I don't want to get caught and spend another afternoon in detention."

Smiling, Peter nodded eagerly. He could play! He opened his mouth to thank Bryce, yet the boy was already running off, laughing as he called out to the nearest girl, "Oi, Brittany! I'm coming!"

Oh well, it was probably best he didn't—he didn't want to look like he had been too desperate to join in. Taking a moment to roll his ankles side to side, exercising them so that he would not accidentally twist them whilst running, he looked around for the fastest girls. If he could tag one of them before any of the other boys, he might be able to show them how good he was, and in future sports games they played, might be picked first instead of last. Satisfied he wouldn't get injured, he picked out Ellen Waters and sprinted towards her.

It was only ten more minutes into the game that he realised his approach wasn't exactly working. He had underestimated the speed of many of the girls, their pace increasing dramatically whenever he approached. Changing his mind, he decided to do what many of the boys were doing and aimed for Emily Woods. So far, six of the boys had managed to catch her and plant a kiss on her cheek, her giggles audible over the shouts of excitement and taunts of their peers. If the other boys could do it, then so could he.

Waiting until Henry released her, placing a cheeky kiss on her forehead, Peter began to run towards Emily. She hadn't noticed him, her eyes focused on Henry's retreating back, a soft blush creeping to her cheeks. Peter smiled to himself, knowing that he would probably elicit the same reaction from her. His heart raced in his chest as his feet carried him forward, his breath coming out in hurried gasps. His arms, legs and neck felt a little wet, the sun beating down relentlessly through the scattered clouds ahead. Still, he could not stop to wipe the sweat away, noticing that Emily had taken off running again.

Biting his bottom lip, Peter begged his legs to move faster. They were beginning to ache now, yet he spurred them on. Emily was only a few meters away, her head turning as Peter let out a small hoot of triumph. The brunette's eyes widened fearfully, her mouth forming a small 'o'. Whipping her head back around, neat pigtails swinging over her back, she picked up speed, trying to reach the base tree. It was now or never.

Extending his hand, Peter reached forward, laughing again as his hand cupped her shoulder. Tightening his grip, he tugged on her shoulder, slowing his pace. Emily stopped, letting out a loud shriek. Stepping in front of her, Peter placed both his hands on the girl's arms and gave her his biggest smile.

"Caught ya!" he said gleefully, licking his lips to make sure they were not chapped or dry. This was it, his first kiss. Leaning forwards and squeezing his eyes shut, he tried to enclose the distance between their faces.

"Ew! Stop it, Pettigrew! Yuck!" Emily squealed, batting her hands at him.

Peter stopped his advance, opening his eyes in surprise. Emily continued to try and push him away, her head frantically turning from right to left. Then, realising her friends were still too busy playing, she glared at him.

"Let me go now or I'll tell the teacher!" she threatened, her hazel eyes flashing dangerously.

Peter quickly let her go, not understanding what the problem was. His heart still beating rapidly, he looked around at the other players, checking to see what they were doing. No one was looking their way, and just as he suspected, the boys were still after the girls, tagging them and placing kisses on their wriggling forms. Confused, he turned back to Emily, who was brushing invisible dirt off her arms.

"But I—I thought we were playing kiss and catch?"

Emily rolled her eyes and folded her arms. "Well duh," she said, raking her eyes over Peter. Suddenly, Peter was aware of how bad he must've smelt, and took a step back. Perhaps Emily had had enough of the other boys' sweat and needed a short break. Girls were funny like that.

Emily shook her head, oblivious to his consideration, and continued, "But _you_ don't actually have to kiss me."

Peter tilted his head, confused more than ever. Wasn't that the object of the game? Did she not know how to play? Then, something clicked in his head as he put two-and-two together.

"Oh, I see," he said, nodding slowly. Winking at her, he asked, "So how many more points do the girls need?"

"Huh?"

Stepping forward once more, Peter repeated, "How many points do the girls need to catch up? You know, you guys were playing yesterday, but with the girls chasing. Have the boys already got more points?"

"What are you going on about, Pettigrew?"

Peter ignored the nickname, smiling knowingly. Leaning in quickly, he pressed a kiss against Emily's unsuspecting lips, holding onto her arms once more. He could feel her arms moving frantically, her lips parting, and held the kiss; it was his first kiss, and judging by her reaction, he was doing a pretty good job. He didn't know what some boys and girls complained about either—kissing made his heart soar.

After what felt like a minute, but was probably only a few seconds, he pulled back. Grinning at Emily, who stood blinking at him, he said, "I knew it! You were only resisting because the boys were winning. Too bad, I still get a point!"

He watched as Emily's eyes began to water, the pretty green flecks in them standing out. His smile faltered—did Emily really care about winning the game that much? Really, the girls could probably catch up again tomorrow, and he'd be willing to go easy on them too. Licking his lips, he tried to rubs her arms and calm her down.

"It's ok; it's just a game…"

"Gross! Get away from me, Rat-tail!" With a shove to the chest, Emily pushed Peter to the ground.

Peter winced as his bottom made contact with the dirt, feeling a few rocks sticking into the muscles and tearing his shorts. He had flung out his hands as an instinct, and now as he inspected them, he could see the reason behind their stinging. Red scrapes lined his palms, mixed in with dirt. Looking up, he felt his own eyes begin to water as he met Emily's fierce, unforgiving gaze.

He parted his lips to ask what he had done wrong, yet found his mouth was dry. It was with no surprise, therefore, when a piercing whistle sounded, and he found himself unable to answer Ms Wilson's questions about what had happened.

"Well, care to explain what is going on?" the teacher demanded, hands on hips.

Emily spoke up, fresh tears springing to her eyes. "I—I didn't—didn't mean to—to," she spluttered. One of her friends, Lily, had come to stand with her during the commotion, and was now rubbing circles into her back reassuringly. Emily swallowed thickly and continued, pointing an accusing finger at Peter, "—to push him. I was startled. He—he—he kissed me!"

Ms Wilson looked up to the sky before looking down at Peter, her thin, white eyebrows raised. "Is this true, Peter?"

His face now scarlet, people focused his attention on his legs. Picking at the hem of his grey school shorts, he nodded his head slowly.

Ms Wilson clicked her tongue. "Well then, you have just earned a detention for inappropriate playground behaviour. I will see you in my classroom tomorrow at lunchtime, is that understood?" The elderly teacher did not wait for Peter's reply, directing her next comment at the other boys and girls who had come to see what was going on. In a stern voice, she said, "That will go for the rest of you, too. Don't think me foolish to not know what game you have been playing. I needn't remind you that 'Kiss and Catch', or whatever nonsense game you've been playing, is banned from this school." A few kids groaned, but stopped as soon as Ms Wilson pursed her lips and folded her arms. "My classroom, lunchtime."

Peter held his breath as she walked away, her low heels stomping against the ground. Emily had ceased crying as soon as the woman disappeared, and Peter could feel her breath in his ear as she bent down to him, muttering, "Touch me again, and you're dead."

Looking up, he watched her and Lily link arms and stalk away, their heads held high. His stomach twisted, churning as further taunts from the boys came.

"Good going, git!"

"Great. Now what are we going to play? I was just getting into it."

"Ugh, I'm glad he didn't try to kiss me." Even the girls who stood nearby voiced their opinions, their shrill giggles hurting Peter's ears.

He squeezed his eyes closed, wishing that he was simply dreaming. This wasn't real; this wasn't how the game ended.

Opening his eyes as a foot connected with his shoe, he looked warily at Bryce, the blond's eyes narrowed. "I told you to watch out for teachers, Rat-tail." Shaking his head angrily, he turned to the group. "C'mon guys, let's go play something else."

"Yeah. This time, though, no losers will be playing."

* * *

"How was your day, Pete?"

Peter dumped his bag at the front door, ignoring his mother's chirpy voice. All he wanted to do was go upstairs to his room and curl up. He didn't even feel like watching television, even though a new superhero show he was interested in was going to be aired that afternoon.

"Pete?"

Sighing, Peter backtracked from the staircase and headed instead for the small kitchen table where his mother sat, cup of tea in hand. Pulling out a chair and slumping into it, he reached for a freshly-baked cookie.

Biting into it and hoping that it would bring the same warm, comforting feeling his mother's cooking usually gave him, he mumbled, "Fine."

His mother took a sip of tea, surveying him over the chipped, blue mug. Peter hastily shoved the rest of his cookie, willing to hide his gloom. After all, it wasn't her problem.

She continued staring at him for a moment, before shaking her head slightly and smiling. Leaning forward, she said, "Guess what?"

"What?"

"Don't talk with your mouth full," she reprimanded as a few crumbs spilled from Peter's mouth onto the table. Still, the smile didn't fade, and her eyes twinkled as she continued, "A surprise came in the mail for you today."

Peter stopped chewing, another cookie already poised to enter his mouth. Swallowing it, he glanced around the room curiously. With no friends, the only mail he ever received was free samples from the catalogues in his father's old study. He hadn't been able to order anything of late, however, since his mother had found out he was doing and confiscated all the sample bottles of 'Facial Growth Potion: Guaranteed to get those Witches Swooning' and 'Size really does matter! Wizard's Formula'—in his defence, all he had wanted was the actual bottles to keep his pet bugs in, not the smelly gloop that were in them.

"What is it?" he asked.

Winking at him, his mother pulled a cream-coloured envelope from her trouser pocket. "This."

Peter leant forward and took the envelope from her outstretched hand, marvelling at the way his name was so neatly written in emerald ink on the front of it. He traced his finger over the writing, his lips twitching into a smile and his heart thumping excitedly. Could it be?

"Well, go on," his mother urged him as he looked up at her uncertainly.

Not wasting a moment, he flipped it over and broke the red wax seal keeping it closed. Discarding the envelope, he pulled out the crisp folded parchment inside, eyes roaming over its contents greedily.

 _Dear Mr Pettigrew,_

 _We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted into Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31._

 _Yours Sincerely,_

 _Minerva McGonagall._

Peter's smile grew wider as he finished reading, his hands shaking slightly. It was better than he expected—he didn't even care that he had not been there to see it get delivered by an owl, as the letters were rumoured to have come.

"July 31st? That doesn't give us much time," his mother fretted as she came to stand over his shoulder and read the letter herself. Her voice was joyous, however, as she said, "But I suppose we'll manage it somehow. Congratulations, Pete, I'm very proud of you, and I know your father would be too."

Peter directed his smile to her, accepting the kiss she placed on his forehead. A frown soon set in, however, and he turned to his mother worriedly. "What—What about Faremont Primary?"

"Mmm?"

"Do I still have to go to school here?"

His mother tilted her head, before chuckling. Ruffling his thick, sandy hair with her hand, she shook her head. "No, silly, one school will be plenty. Besides, I think you've learnt enough of my world, it must be boring for you compared to magic, right?"

Peter laughed shakily, feeling a little foolish. More importantly, however, he felt immense relief. He had gotten a break and was going to a new school—a school that actually wanted him.


End file.
